WARRIORS

by Karen Michelle Nutt

  Then he knew what he must do to gain it. Her inquiries about her people proved she wished no harm to come to them. He would put it to the test.

  “Mi’lady, if ye doonae agree, I will make an example of the prisoners.”

  “What do you mean? What prisoners?” Her eyes widened, her gaze fastened on him with unease.

  “Did ye think ye were the only one we took hostage from Lochwood? Every minute that ye deny me, I will have one of yer people put to the sword.” He was happy to see her pause, fear momentarily crossing her features. So she did have a heart after all.

  “You bluff.”

  He lifted one brow ever so slightly. He moved to the door and yanked it open. “Reid, go below and bring me one of the prisoners from Lochwood. My lady needs to see proof that I doonae lie.”

  “Aye mi’laird.” Reid turned to leave.

  “Wait,” she called.

  Reid looked to Waylon for direction.

  Waylon held up his hand. He looked at Catrione awaiting her reply.

  Finally she met his gaze once more, lashing him with her hatred. “Marry me, you son of the devil, and may you rot in hell for this deceit.”

  “Such endearing words, mi’lady.” He placed his hand over his heart. “I am beside myself with pleasure that ye hold me in such high esteem.” He bowed to her in mock pretense. Her eyes were cold as shard glass as she glared at him. He addressed the priest once more. “Say the words, priest.”

  The ceremony took less than five minutes, words that rang false of uncaring promises, which neither one meant, but the deed was done.

  Waylon unrolled the parchment, he been carrying, and placed it on the table, ironing it smooth with a heavy hand. “We both must sign the document,” he told Catrione.

  Waylon did the honors first, dipping the quill tip in ink and scrawling his signature in bold script. He looked at Catrione for her to do the same. “Do ye know how to pen your name? If ye are uneducated—”

  Her hand snaked out, grabbing the quill from him. “My father paid an English tutor handsomely for my schooling. I can pen my own name. If it is not there, my father will know I have been forced.” Her hand stilled and her lips slipped into a smug smile as she met his gaze. She believed she found a loophole and means of escaping her predicament.

  Foolish lassie. He smiled, too. “Have it yer way then.” He gripped her hand, forcing her to sign her name. She fought and yanked, but he succeeded.

  “No one will believe that messy scrawl is mine.” She folded her arms against her chest.

  “Trust me my dear, it will suffice.” He sprinkled sand over the document to ensure the ink would dry and not smudge. He then turned toward Jon Luc and leveled his gaze on the man. “Now, leave us.” He dismissed the priest with a wave of his hand.

  Jon Luc hesitated, obviously reluctant to go. He glanced at Catrione then back to Waylon. “Surely you will give her time to know her husband before you consummate the marriage.”

  “She will know me well enough before the night is through.”

  “But—”

  “Leave priest.”

  “I will be fine,” Catrione assured John Luc though her eyes flickered warily to Waylon.

  “You are sure?” Jon Luc asked and she nodded. He took Catrione’s hand, giving it an encouraging squeeze before he faced Waylon. “You have made a sacred vow this day, see to it that you treat this lady with gentleness.”

  “I assure ye, I will treat her as I see fit. Now go.”

  John Luc hesitated again, chewing on his lower lip. Obviously seeing there was no way he could delay the inevitable, he left the room.

  Waylon turned to face Catrione who glowered at him with blazing contempt. The sooner he made her his wife in every way, the sooner he could return to his own chambers and be done with her temper tantrums. He started to remove his leather jerkin.

  Her gaze riveted to his as she took a step away from him. Her arms crossed over her breasts like a shield.

  If he didn’t know better, he might believe worry darkened her features, but he wouldn’t fall for her pretenses. She was a lady, yes, but she fought alongside her clan in battle. The men were too friendly in their stories, knowing more about Catrione than deemed appropriate. She may be of genteel birth, but she in no way could still be a virgin.

  She was long past the marrying age and yet her father made no match for her. Some men were picky that their brides be untried. He didn’t care who warmed her bed before him as long as he remained the last man to bed her from this day forth. “On the bed with ye. I would like to be done with this as soon as possible.” His clothes done away with, he wanted hers removed as well.

  Catrione’s face flamed red as her gaze slid over his naked form. She stumbled back, hitting the table before she stood still, her gaze clashing with his. “I am not a whore to be ordered about.”

  “No? I have heard the men praise ye as being one of them. That kind of closeness can only mean one thing.”

  “Friendship proves I have given myself freely? Please my laird, are you not close with your men?”

  His gaze narrowed. “What are ye asking me?”

  “Only if you hold yer men dear? Do you share a dram with them or a meal? Do you find friendship among your men?”

  “Ach. Of course I do.”

  “Should I worry about your virtue?”

  “They are men. I assure ye, I am fond of them, but I prefer a woman’s touch.”

  “You show restraint then. You can call a man friend and not sleep with him.”

  “Nay, ’tis a preference. Now stop with yer mindless prattle.” He approached her again and she backed away. “On the bed.” He pointed, angry that she still hadn’t complied. What difference would it make for her to add one more man to the list she already bedded? He was her husband now, and she would obey him.

  “What is the rush?” She hurried to the other side of the room, using one of the chairs to shield her.

  “Ah, well ye see mi’lady, I need ye with child as soon as possible so yer father can find no reason to null the marriage.” In two strides he yanked the chair away from her and grabbed her arm, ignoring her protests. He threw her on the bed, before he followed suit, pinning her down and pulling at her gown.

  She fought to stop him.

  Finally he grew tired of the struggle and took out his knife.

  She gasped at the sight of it and fought him with more fervor. He brought the weapon down and she closed her eyes as if she thought he’d kill her. She would be disappointed. He tore the material as he cut away her clothing with no more effort than when he skinned a deer. She grabbed at the remnants of her dress to keep her covered and he was just as determined to remove them.

  “Stop. Stop, I implore you,” she begged.

  Something in her voice made him pause and look at her, to really see her. Her labored breathing made her breast rise and fall, two peach colored orbs bare to his gaze. His body tightened in response. She was his enemy, wife…most importantly a woman and it had been far too long since he had taken care of his needs. “Why do you delay the inevitable?”

  “I…” Tears pooled in her eyes. “Please…”

  “Please what?” She trembled, but he wasn’t entirely sure it was from pleasure.

  His gaze locked with hers and he knew the moment she felt his arousal firm against her thigh. Her eyes widened and her body tightened like a bowstring. Why was she afraid of him? He tempered his haste for the moment.

  “What is it ye want?” He touched her smooth skin, her nipples becoming hard beneath his caress. Her lips parted and he leaned down to kiss her. He hadn’t planned on wooing her. He wanted to treat this as a chore to be done with, but now…

  She tasted so sweet. Her lips were smooth, luscious when not spouting her vicious retorts. He slipped his tongue into her mouth and heard her sharp intake of breath before she seemed to accept the intrusion. He moved his hand down her flat stomach and lower, his hand seeking her warmth. She struggled to be free and he held
her down, his eyes flashing anger as he glared at her. “I thought to be gentle with ye, but I see that it isnae yer way.”

  “Please, don’t do this.”

  He roughly pulled her legs apart, while she mauled his face like a wildcat. He grabbed her hands and pinned them over her head. Still she struggled, but he no longer listened to her pleas and maneuvered himself between her legs, thrusting inside her warmth and making her his. His triumph proved short lived at her cry of pain. He stilled his moves, shocked by the discovery and horrified by what he’d done. He released her hands and stared at her. Her eyes were tightly closed, long lashes glistening with tears. “Why dinnae ye tell me ye were untouched?”

  Her eyes flashed opened with unbridled anger. “How could I tell you anything? You were so determined to think the worst of me.”

  They stared at each other for a long time until she realized he was still on top of her, inside of her. “Get off of me.” She pushed at him. “You did your deed now leave me.”

  He didn’t move. Her innocence astounded him further. She thought the act done? He would be honored to teach her the pleasures of the body, but first he must win her trust. “My dear, I have yet to complete my duty.” Fear entered her eyes again, making him angry for evoking such an emotion. He’d never taken a woman by force and yet he had done so now, and on his wedding night of all things. He tried to convince himself she was one of the spoils of victory, but looking at her, seeing her panic, her uncertainty made him feel like a monster. If she had been used maybe he could have justified his actions, but she had been untouched. Be it pride, be it whatever the hell it was, he didn’t want her to think he was…what? A barbarian? She already thought him that. He brushed her hair away from her face, searching for a way to put her at ease. He met her gaze. “It willnae hurt anymore.”

  Her brows furrowed and her voice was laced with suspicion. “How do you know?”

  “Does it hurt now?”

  * * * *

  Catrione realized he spoke the truth. The pain had ebbed away replaced by a different kind of ache. “No, but—”

  His forefinger pressed against her lips to silence her. Then without a word he lowered his mouth to hers, covering it and taking what he wanted. She tasted her fill, too. Then he moved to her neck, to her breast, suckling on them as a babe would for nourishment. She found it strange what he did to her, and yet she had no willpower to stop him. Something awakened in her and she wanted more, but she didn’t know what her body craved.

  The Devil’s Wolf seemed to know. He moved his hips against her. She stiffened, fearing there would be pain again, but he put her at ease with his caresses, distracting her as he nibbled on her earlobe and kissed the hollow of her neck. Then pleasure like she had never felt before spread through her veins. He moved again, slowly with a rhythm that matched her own. His lips found hers and she returned the caress. Her hands gripped his back, willing him to go deeper. Wanting… wanting… She gasped in surprise as his movements caused a flutter of sensations to fill her, making every nerve spasm with pleasure. She grasped him tighter, yearning for more, not wanting him to stop, and praying the sensation would never end.

  His body tensed and her gaze traveled over his face in alarm. His brow furrowed and his eyes were squeezed shut as if pain racked his body. He let out an anguished cry before he fell upon her, heavy and unmoving.

  She had difficulty breathing with his weight crushing her. If it weren’t for his heart hammering against her chest, she might have believed him dead. She pushed at him to be free of him.

  Humiliation washed over her in waves. How could she for one second enjoy his touch? “Get off of me.”

  * * * *

  He pushed himself up and looked down at her, seeing her anger spark when only moments ago she held onto him, wanting him. He rolled away with a smile, amused how she could go from one emotion to the other in a bat of an eye.

  She scrambled to the other side of the bed, pulling the furs around her body still flushed from their lovemaking.

  He threw his legs over the side of the bed and stood. He donned his clothes, intent on giving her some privacy. He turned his back, a mistake he wouldn’t make again. In a flash, she jumped on his back like the hounds of hell beating and scratching him.

  “Ouch!” She bit his neck. He flung her down on the bed, straddling her and holding her hands above her head. “What was that for?”

  “You loathsome beast!” She spat at him. “Be gone from me now. You did your worst and you have no need to see me again.”

  His brows rose. He then let his gaze wander down the length of her naked body still flushed from their lovemaking. His body hardened again. If he didn’t believe his life would be at risk, he’d take her now. He sighed with regret. He would have to wait until his hellion cooled her temper.

  He met her gaze with a smile, pressing his maleness against her, having great pleasure in seeing her eyes widen in surprise. “A man’s needs are plentiful, but I can manage elsewhere with a more willing partner.”

  “Then go find her and never come back. I will not stop you.”

  “Dear, dear wife, ye fail to understand my position. My duty is to get ye with child.”

  “But I thought …”

  “What? That one time would be enough? Perhaps.” His shoulder lifted in a shrug. “But I cannae be sure. We will have to couple often to ensure ye carry my wee bairn within yer womb.” His smile widened when her gaze clashed with his, startled and upset. “Doonae worry, I will make it pleasurable for ye each time. I love to hear ye cry for more.”

  She struggled to hit him, but his hands still held her captive.

  “Doonae move so, or I’ll be forced to take ye again.” He freed a hand, but kept both of hers secured over her head. He wondered down the inside of her leg, his fingers entering her tender folds.

  That stilled her attempts to squirm away. She bit her lower lip as his gentle touch coaxed her to open up for him. “Damn you.”

  “Aye, I know.” He kissed her brow. His fingers left her and her hips moved toward him, seeking what he denied her. “I’d take ye again, but ye will be sore. I’ll give ye a day to recover then we will take a tumble again. Aye?”

  “Never.” She clenched her teeth, obviously berating herself for not having control over her body.

  “Tsk, tsk, never is such a nasty word.” He released her then. He took the sheet, but threw the fur over her, covering her body. “I will send yer maid in with a bath.”

  He was almost at the door when she threw the candleholder at him, barely missing his head. He turned to look at her. “Would ye like me to stay?”

  “Get out!”

  He bowed in mock pretense. “As ye wish, mi’lady.”

  Waylon hummed as he strode down the winding stairs to meet with Reid. His cousin stood as he entered the hall and walked toward him. “Mi’laird—” His eyes widened. "By the saints, what happened to ye? Ye’re wounded.”

  Waylon’s hand flew to his neck feeling the wet stickiness where Catrione had bit him. “Aah aye, a present from my wife.”

  “Maybe next time ye should feed her first.” He slapped him on the back.

  “May so.” They walked side by side as they talked. “The lady is mine.” He handed Reid the sheet.

  “She was a virgin?” Reid stared at the bloodstained covers.

  Waylon chuckled. “It would seem so. Her father will know she is mine now. I’ll present the sheets as proof that I have taken her maidenhood.

  Chapter Ten

  Catrione’s heart lurched when the door to her prison opened. “Jon Luc.” Her shoulders sagged in relief.

  “My lady.” The priest’s gaze swept over her. Heat burned her cheeks and she knew she blushed. “He did not hurt you, did he?” Jon Luc asked.

  She’d like to say he had, but in truth, he’d done far worse. He released a primitive force inside of her with the passion of a true kiss. She touched her lips at the memory of the way her husband had teased, tasted, and plundered her
mouth. He made her feel as if she were burning from the inside out and if he touched her one more time she’d burst into flames.

  Her gaze met Jon Luc’s and realized he waited for a response. She cleared her throat. “No, he did nothing that would prove my demise.” She didn’t think dying of embarrassment counted. She turned away from him as she composed herself. “How did the people of Lochwood fare? Do not spare me the details. I must know everything.”

  “They fared well, my lady. Laird Waylon showed mercy. He came to retrieve you and left the others be.”

  She whirled on him. “I said to not spare me the details.”

  “I speak the truth.”

  Catrione’s brows furrowed. “He has not made sport of spearing the old? Drowning the babes?”

  Jon Luc shook his head. “No, my lady. He took very few prisoners and only those to serve you and give you comfort. They have been treated as if they were Maxwells.”

  Catrione stood stone still, speechless at what her priest revealed. This wasn’t what she expected. How could she nurture her hatred if the man didn’t follow what she knew of him? “He is trying to fool us in some way, have us trust him before he makes his move.”

  “I think not my lady. I believe he is an honorable man.”

  She harrumphed. “He is a reiver. He kidnapped me! Forced me to marry him.” Not to mention what other things he made her do.

  “Hmm, yes. He could have taken you without care, but he did not. He married you before God.”

  She turned her anger on him. “So this gives him leave?”

  The priest sighed. “It makes me take pause. Perhaps we have misjudged him. He has odd ways. I’ve seen this with my own eyes.”

  “Speak clearly.”

  “He has taken stock of his land and has asked for those who know the ways of farming.”

  “Farming? Does he hope to become a gentleman farmer?” When Jon Luc didn’t answer, Catrione laughed. “He will go mad. What reiver can sit idle for long?”